Moving On
by Kallanit
Summary: After the war, Hermione finds that she has drifted apart from Harry and Ron, as their lives head in different directions. As new opportunities come to her and she makes new friends, will the Golden Trio ever reconnect? Cedric lives. HG/CD.
1. Chapter 1

After the war, Hermione finds that she had drifted apart from Harry and Ron, as their lives head in different directions. As new opportunities come to her and she makes new friends, will the Golden Trio ever reconnect? Cedric lives. HG/CD.

oOo - oOo - oOo

**Disclaimer:** Not mine, don't own it – I wish! Unfortunately, Harry Potter belongs to JKR and not to me; I'm just playing in her sandbox.

**Author's Notes:**

» Thank you to my beta, the wonderful StrongHermione, for all her help and support.

» This story is complete and in the process of being betaed; I'm hoping to update approximately every two weeks or so.

oOo - oOo - oOo

**Chapter 1**

Clutching her faithful beaded bag, Hermione walked away from the Burrow in the morning sunlight towards the apparition point. It was ten days since the Battle of Hogwarts had ended the recent war. Hermione had wanted leave immediately to try and find her parents in Australia but Ron, mourning the loss of his brother, had begged her to come back to the Burrow with him and in the face of his grief, she had not been able to refuse him this small comfort. However, since their return to the Burrow, neither Ron nor Harry had said so much as one word to her. In fact, they spent most of their time flying around the Weasleys' Quidditch field and the rest of the time they seemed completely unaware of her very presence. Even when she tried to speak to them, they stared blankly through her, as though she simply did not exist for them.

After years of fighting, the last year spent on the run with little food and no time to recuperate after having been badly tortured, Hermione was bone-weary and desperately needed a break from the wizarding world. Her entire time in Hogwarts seemed to have been spent supporting Harry and, to a lesser extent Ron, with very little reciprocal support in return from either of her best friends. She knew how much Harry had suffered from being The-Boy-Who-Lived and she would never have dreamt of abandoning Harry when he needed her the most. Not only had he needed her help and emotional support over the past year but, as a muggleborn witch, this war was as much hers to fight as it was Harry's.

Now, though, the war was finally over and she longed for some peace and respite. Molly Weasley had never particularly liked Hermione, merely tolerating her for Ron and Harry's sakes and, never the most subtle of people, she had been hinting more and more strongly with each passing day that Hermione was intruding upon the family's mourning. Hermione did not blame Mrs Weasley as she, too, felt that she had outstayed her welcome at the Burrow. She did not even blame the boys for their seeming indifference to her, realising that they were both shellshocked and likely suffering from PTSD. The problem was that Hermione was also suffering in the aftermath of the war, and she was tired of putting everyone else's well-being ahead of her own.

Hermione ached to see her parents again but knew it would take a few days for her to make the arrangements to travel to Australia. Despite no longer feeling comfortable at the Burrow, she had considered staying there for a few more days while she made her travel plans. However, that morning, when serving Hermione an early breakfast while the rest of the family slept, Mrs Weasley had obviously tired of hinting and had asked outright when Hermione would be leaving. So without any fuss, Hermione had simply packed her things into her beaded bag and had left The Burrow without looking back.

Unfortunately, Hermione had nowhere else to stay in Britain. Her parents' house had been sold when they went to Australia, Harry's home at Grimmauld Place had been trashed by Death Eaters after Hermione had inadvertently brought one in through the wards, Hogwarts had been badly damaged during the final battle and was currently undergoing repairs, and she did not feel safe staying on her own at the Leaky Cauldron, knowing that there were still Death Eaters and Voldemort supporters out there who had not yet been caught.

Hermione was not stupid. In fact, she was commonly regarded as the brightest witch of her age. She had realised that the war may go badly and that she might need to disappear into the muggle world or even leave Britain. She had made sure that she had sufficient funds, held in a muggle bank account in a false name, to allow her to hide out for a while and to pay for a ticket to Australia when she would need it. She had also made a list of youth hostels around the UK and in Australia, where she would be as anonymous and unmemorable as any other transient youth needing somewhere cheap and temporary to stay. Feeling that this would be a safer option than the Leaky Cauldron, she had decided to check into a youth hostel in London until she could leave for Australia.

First though, she had to replace her wand. She had lost hers when taken captive during the horcrux hunt and, unwilling to be without a wand at all, she had been using Bellatrix Lestrange's wand since her escape from Malfoy Manor. Just being in the presence of that wand was enough to give her nightmares, as she could feel the evil emanating from it, therefore, her first stop had to be the newly reopened Ollivander's Wand Shop in Diagon Alley.

Reaching the apparition point outside the Burrow's wards, Hermione twisted and apparated to the Leaky Cauldron. Before leaving the Burrow, she had quietly borrowed Ron's owl, Pigwidgeon, and sent him with a message to Bill Weasley at Gringotts Bank, asking if Bill could meet her at the Leaky Cauldron that morning. Standing in the alley running along the side of the pub in muggle London, Hermione sent her patronus to Bill, letting him know that she had arrived.

Taking a deep breath, Hermione pushed open the door and walked into the dimly lit, public bar of the Leaky Cauldron. As soon as she opened the door, the patrons, all wary after their experiences during the last year of war, looked up to see who was coming in through the muggle entrance. Hermione did not doubt that they all recognised her as Harry Potter's best friend, however, her contribution to the defeat of Voldemort was not as well known as Harry's and so they mostly ignored her.

"Hello, Tom," she said as the owner came bustling over to her. "I'm meeting Bill Weasley here soon. Is there a reasonably private table where we can sit? Somewhere we can be seen but not heard?" Hermione smiled wryly. "I don't want to sound like a reincarnation of Mad-Eye Moody but I'd rather not risk being blind-sided or taken by surprise. Neither do I want everyone hearing my business, though."

Tom nodded understandingly and led Hermione to a table situated away from the mid-morning crowd. Hermione sipped at a cup of tea as she thought about what she would say to Bill. It was not long before he arrived and joined her at the table.

"Is everything all right, Hermione?" he asked as he sat down. "What's the emergency?"

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to panic you, Bill," she replied, "but I need to make some urgent purchases and I need your help. Do you think you could get some muggle money converted into galleons for me, as I don't think I'll be very welcome in Gringotts right now?"

"How much do you need?" he asked, taking out his money bag.

"Enough for a new wand and to send a message at the Owl Post Office," she replied.

Bill looked at Hermione in surprise. "Where's your wand?" he asked.

"It was taken from me when we were captured by Snatchers," she shrugged. "I've been using a Death Eater's wand that we grabbed before we left Malfoy Manor but I really want to get rid of it as soon as possible. I'll get a new one from Mr Ollivander and then turn this one in to the Ministry."

"You know you could have used Pig to send your message after he delivered mine, don't you?"

"I know but I need to contact Kingsley and your Dad says they're still a bit jumpy at the Ministry. I don't really think that they'd appreciate a hyperactive owl causing mayhem in the Minister's office right now."

Bill laughed and took some money out of his money bag. "This ought to be plenty for what you need," he said, "but send me a patronus if you need more." Hermione thanked him and gave him some muggle money in return. Tucking the galleons safely into her beaded bag, Hermione looked up to see Bill looking curiously at her.

"Yes?" she asked, smiling at the tall man she had come to regard as an older brother, ever since he and his wife had tended to her after her torture and escape from Malfoy Manor during the war.

"Just out of curiosity… it's waited this long, so why the urgency? I could have brought the money to the Burrow on my way home tonight and you could have come to Diagon Alley tomorrow with the boys."

Hermione winced. "I just needed to get out the house and this was a good excuse."

"Nice try, Hermione, but I have six younger siblings and I've learned to recognise prevarication."

"I'm not prevaricating!"

"Hermione…"

"All right," she huffed. "I won't be at the Burrow tonight." Bill raised an eyebrow and she continued, "I'm in the way there, Bill. Your family is mourning, the boys are barely functioning and it's too much to ask your Mum to host a guest on top of all that."

"You're hardly a guest, Hermione."

"Yes, I am. Your Mum doesn't regard me as another child of hers, the way she does Harry. It's all right," she reassured him hastily, as she saw Bill was about to protest. "I don't mind. I have parents, I don't need another set, but I'm not comfortable staying at the Burrow any longer. Your Mum needs me to move out."

"I noticed that something was off between you," he said slowly, "but I'm sure you don't need to leave so urgently."

Hermione sighed. "She asked me to, Bill," she said gently. "It's all right," she repeated. "The boys aren't the only ones feeling the after-effects of the war, you know. I am, too, but I just don't feel I can give into it while at the Burrow. It feels like too much of an imposition when everyone else there is suffering. I need to do this for my own sanity. Besides, I hope it'll only be a few days before I can leave for Australia. I need to find my parents. I need to know they're all right. It's been nearly a year and I need to see them again. I miss them."

"Where will you stay until you leave?" he asked resignedly.

"I'll check into a cheap hotel or youth hostel in muggle London."

"No, you're not staying on your own. It's not safe. I'll go with you to Ollivander's and then to Ministry – I don't want you wandering round Diagon Alley or the Ministry on your own either, not while things are still so chaotic. Then I'm going to take you to Shell Cottage. You'll stay with Fleur and me at Shell Cottage until you go to Australia. No arguments," he said emphatically. Hermione bowed her head in acquiescence; she realised it would be futile to argue and she was grateful that there was someone who recognised that she needed support.

The pair of them made their way out to the back of the Leaky Cauldron and entered Diagon Alley. "Owl Office or Ollivander's first?" Bill asked.

"Owl Office," Hermione answered decisively. "I only need to owl Kingsley to ask if he can see me today. I suppose I could hand over that wand to anyone in the DMLE but I'd rather deal with someone I know. I trust Kingsley but I'm not so sure I trust anyone else in the Ministry except your Dad, and he's the wrong department for this. We can go to Ollivander's while I wait for a reply."

Bill nodded and escorted Hermione to the Owl Office, where she quickly scribbled a message and sent it off to Kingsley Shacklebolt, the Acting Minister, before heading off to Ollivander's to replace her wand. By the time a new wand had chosen Hermione, an owl had come from Kingsley inviting her to stop by and see him whenever she wanted, and so with her business in Diagon Alley complete, she and Bill headed off to the Ministry.

Once in Kingsley's office, Hermione explained how she came to be in possession of Bellatrix Lestrange's wand and then gave it to Kingsley, glad to be rid of it. "I don't know what you're planning to do with the wands of the Death Eaters who were killed but this wand is absolutely malevolent. You know how Ollivander always says that the wand chooses the wizard? Well, this wand chooses the magic; it resists anything other than dark magic. I'd recommend destroying it completely rather than merely snapping it in two," she said soberly.

Kingsley gingerly took the wand from Hermione and screwed up his face with distaste as he felt the darkness within it. The three of them chatted amiably for a few minutes, until Bill changed the subject and mentioned Hermione's plans to go to Australia to find her parents. "Can you arrange a portkey for her, Kings?" he asked.

"I'm afraid not," Kingsley sighed. "Not only has outgoing magical travel been restricted by our Ministry to prevent Death Eaters leaving the country, but no other country is willing to accept incoming magical travel from Britain either, as they don't want to risk fugitives setting up shop there. Besides, I'm not sure it's safe for Hermione. Even now, we still haven't managed to identify all the Voldemort supporters in the Ministry and if there's a record of her taking an international portkey, they could easily find out where she is."

"It's all right, Kingsley," Hermione interjected. "I had already planned to travel muggle and I'll be travelling under a false identity. My father used to be in the army and he has friends who were in the Special Forces. They arranged the identities for my parents and a separate one for me."

"You had help hiding your parents?" Bill asked in surprise. "I thought you did it alone."

"I didn't get help from anyone magical, that's for sure," Hermione snorted. "Do you know that the Order arranged protection for Harry's despicable muggle relatives who abused him all his life but they wouldn't help mine? I begged Professor Dumbledore during sixth year to help me protect my parents and he refused. He said there weren't enough resources to help every muggle. It shouldn't even have required extra resources, as they could have been kept in the same safe house as the Dursleys. How he could think that the parents of Harry Potter's mudblood wouldn't be targets, I don't know, but he just didn't care. I tried telling him that if they were used against me, then that would affect my ability to help Harry, but he didn't want to hear it. So I asked Professors McGonagall, Snape and Lupin as well. I thought one of them might manage to persuade Dumbledore but none of them were even willing to try. My parents just weren't important enough. I was seventeen years old and I was left to take care of my parents on my own against a threat they couldn't counter and I didn't know what to do to protect them.

"So eventually I went to my parents and told them everything. All the things I'd been keeping from them ever since first year so they wouldn't take me out of Hogwarts. They wanted me to come with them to Australia but they understood that I couldn't run away from this fight. They weren't happy about it but they understood. My Dad and I came up with the plan together. He got the false identities from one of his friends and then he and Mum recorded a message to themselves – that's like a muggle version of a pensieve memory – just in case I needed it when I went to find them, before I obliviated them of all memories of me and of magic. I have the recording in a safe box in a muggle bank and I'll take it with me when I go to restore their memories."

"I'm sorry you had to go through that on your own," Kingsley said sadly. "If I'd known, I would have tried to help you, Hermione." Bill nodded in agreement.

"Thanks, Kingsley. I appreciate that but I don't think Dumbledore and the Order would have let you. All they cared about was Harry. A mudblood's muggle parents just aren't important enough."

"Stop calling yourself that!"

"Why? It's what everyone thinks of me. Even without Bellatrix Lestrange having carved that in my arm so I'll never forget it, can you honestly say that anyone in the British magical community feels differently? They may not all use the word mudblood but as a muggleborn, I'm regarded as not much better than a house elf and my parents are regarded as less than that! Hell, I spent seven years helping Harry and Ron and now that they don't need me any more, it's like I don't even exist. I know they're traumatised but what about me? When do I get to stop being strong for everyone else and get a little support in return? I can't begin to tell you how fed up I am with the wizarding world right now. Bill, your Mum asked me to move out this morning and I don't blame her, I truly don't, but she didn't even ask me if I had anywhere else to go. I'm trying not to be selfish here but I'm at breaking point and no one cares!" Hermione burst into tears and Kingsley looked over at Bill.

"Molly threw her out?" he asked quietly.

"Apparently so." Bill knelt beside the petite witch and put his arms around her, rubbing her back and comforting her, like he used to do for his little sister when she was young and upset. "I've already told Hermione that she should stay with Fleur and me until she leaves for Australia. She's welcome for as long as she needs but I think that even more importantly, she needs to get away. Away from the war, away from the prejudiced British magical world, away from all the people who keep taking and never give back. She allowed herself to be tortured by Bellatrix Lestrange to save Harry and then the boys expected her to pick herself up and carry on as though nothing had happened. They didn't even ask if she was all right afterwards, they were only concerned about their mission as they needed her help to carry on with it. Hermione single-handedly had the onus of getting Harry to the stage of being in a position to be able to kill Voldemort – Ron abandoned them for weeks – and no one has taken into account the toll that's taken on her. No one has even said thank you to her. She's right that all everyone cares about is Harry. Even Minerva – she came to The Burrow the other day and took the time to ask Harry how he is but she didn't even have the courtesy to ask Hermione, supposedly her favourite pupil, the same question before she started listing tasks she wanted Hermione to help her with.

"Well, that ends here and now! I'm not letting anyone make any more demands of her, so please don't tell anyone that Hermione will be at Shell Cottage. To be honest, I doubt anyone will even bother asking where she is as I'm not sure they'll actually notice she's gone unless they have something they want her to do for them, but while she's with us, Fleur and I will do our best to give her the care she needs. I just wish there was someone who could go with her to Australia and help her. I don't like the idea of her going alone. Not only for her physical safety but also for her emotional well-being."

At this Kingsley looked pensive. "What about Cedric Diggory? He's at a bit of a loose end right now." Cedric had been badly injured while fighting with Harry against the newly resurrected Voldemort and his Death Eaters in the graveyard at Little Hangleton at the end of the Triwizard Tournament. Once he had recovered and sat his NEWTs, he wanted to become an Auror so that he could join the fight against the Dark, but the Ministry had been in full-on denial mode about Voldemort's return and would not employ him, branding both Cedric and Harry as delusional, attention-seeking, trouble-makers for daring to speak the truth. Unable to find a decent job after the Ministry had declared him unemployable, he had been marking time during the war by joining the Order of the Phoenix and by writing anti-Voldemort articles for _The Quibbler_.

Disillusioned with the actions of the Ministry over the past couple of years, Cedric had already stated that he no longer wanted to work for the Ministry, even a Ministry led by Kingsley Shacklebolt. Since this had always been his planned career path, he was now at a loss as to what to do next. He had been helping the Lovegoods rebuild _The Quibbler's_ premises over the past couple of weeks but a career as a journalist did not appeal to him either. _The Daily Prophet_ was nothing more than a Ministry mouthpiece and its reporters had no concept of telling the truth, while _The Quibbler_ was able to report honestly only by burying its more candid and forthright stories in amongst the plethora of eccentric and whimsical articles that it was best known for.

"I'd like that," said Hermione, sitting up and wiping her eyes. "We became friends while he was at Grimmauld Place recovering from his injuries after the Triwizard Tournament and it was his articles in _The Quibbler_ that helped me convince my parents to let me modify their memories and send them into hiding. Do you think he'd be willing to come with me?"

"Oh, I think he'd be as happy as you to get away from the British magical world. We'll need to get him a muggle identity though."

"I can get the ID papers from the same person who created my parents' and my identities. Can you let me know if Cedric agrees so I can book the tickets, Kingsley? I'm planning to travel in disguise because it'll be safer, in case any of the remaining Death Eaters are looking for me, and I think Cedric should do the same. We'll need to choose a name for Cedric and he'll need an official muggle identity photograph. We can't take it with just any camera, it has to be from a photo booth, but you can find one of those in just about any train or bus station in the country. If you can get him to Shell Cottage in the next day or two, I'll take him to a muggle hairdresser to have his hair cut and dyed so we can take the ID photos, and then we can meet my Dad's friend and finish off the paperwork."

"Wouldn't Polyjuice be the best means of disguise?"

"No, we'd have to take a dose every hour. The journey takes a full day and that's just the flight time; it doesn't include the additional time we'll need to spend hanging around in airports. If we fall asleep and miss a dose, it could be disastrous. Something a little bit more long-lasting would be better."

"That's risky, though," said Bill. "A simple _Finite_ can cancel any glamours."

"That's why I'm doing it muggle-style. When I created my false identity, I dyed my hair black with blue highlights, put it in micro braids and wore a ton of makeup. I told the hairdresser it was for a party and she used temporary hair dyes that had already washed out before I arrived at the Burrow last summer so no one knew about it. If things had gone badly in the war, I'd have used long-term dyes so I could keep up the disguise. Add to that clothes that are vastly different to those I usually wear, and I figured my look was so far from my normal appearance that no one from the wizarding world would recognise me."

Seeing the confusion on Bill and Kingsley's faces, Hermione shook her head. "Never mind. Just know that there are effective but simple muggle means to change ones appearance that can't be cancelled with a _Finite_. Don't worry, it's not permanent – unless you want it to be! Now, what name shall we give Cedric?" _She riffled through her mental encyclopedic knowledge bank and came up with an alias that might suit him._ "How about Nigel Brock?"

"Why Nigel Brock?" Kingsley inquired, amused.

"Nigel means champion and Cedric was the joint Hogwarts champion for the Triwizard Tournament. Plus, Phinneus Nigellus and I became friends during the horcrux hunt, not that the cantankerous old Slytherin would ever admit it, so I'd like to use his name. Brock means badger and Cedric is a Hufflepuff. Nigel Brock just seems right for him."

"What name did you choose for yourself?" Bill asked curiously.

"Lorna Gale. One of the meanings of the man's name, Lorn, is forsaken and one of the meanings of Gale is stranger. Dorothy Gale is a character in a very well-known muggle story about a girl who gets lost and ends up alone in a magical land. Somehow it seemed appropriate."

"Forsaken, lost, alone and a stranger? Is that really how you see yourself, Hermione?"

"Yes," she nodded. "I was hurt and angry when I chose the name, because I felt abandoned by everyone who refused to help my parents, but it's right for me. I no longer belong to the muggle world and I'm not really accepted in the magical world either. It's a big problem for muggleborns, that we end up not truly belonging to either world. I haven't spent much time with my parents since the end of third year as I became more immersed the wizarding world but, right now, I really need a break from it, so when I get to Australia and restore my parents' memories, I think it'll be a good time to try and reconnect with them and with my muggle heritage. It might help me decide where I really belong."


	2. Chapter 2

After the war, Hermione finds that she has drifted apart from Harry and Ron, as their lives head in different directions. As new opportunities come to her and she makes new friends, will the Golden Trio ever reconnect? Cedric lives. HG/CD.

oOo - oOo - oOo

**Disclaimer:** Not mine, don't own it – I wish! Unfortunately, Harry Potter belongs to JKR and not to me; I'm just playing in her sandbox.

**Author's Notes:**

» Thank you to my beta, the wonderful StrongHermione, for all her help and support.

» This story is complete and in the process of being betaed; I'm hoping to update approximately every two weeks or so.

oOo - oOo - oOo

**Chapter 2**

A week later, Hermione and Cedric were at the airport, ready to check in under their new identities. Cedric had agreed it would be prudent to change their appearance sufficiently to fool anyone not looking too closely at them and that glamour charms and Polyjuice would be too risky, so the promised visit to a muggle hairdresser had resulted in new hair styles and hair colouring, while muggle casual clothing and trekking backpacks had completed the picture of two muggle students off to backpack around Australia together.

Cedric's hair was now dyed an inky black and cropped very short. He was wearing a comfortable hoodie, ripped black jeans, a Fleetwood Mac t-shirt and black Converses.

"What's a Fleetwood Mac?" he had asked when presented with the shirt.

"A muggle rock band, like the Weird Sisters," Hermione explained.

True to her word, Hermione now looked almost unrecognisable with her trademark bushy hair tamed into a multitude of micro braids and dyed in blue and black, Goth inspired colours. Cedric's jaw had dropped to the floor when he first caught sight of Hermione wearing a cropped denim jacket, a very short, flirty, pleated blue tartan skirt, thick black tights, black Dr Martens and a plain, long-sleeved black t-shirt, which showed a hint of midriff. She had deliberately chosen to avoid all hints of Gryffindor red or gold in her new guise and she looked stunning. "So I don't look like the know-it-all bookworm then?" she smirked. Hermione's amusement grew as she watched her dumbstruck and speechless companion struggle to reply.

After a stopover in Singapore on the way, where they had managed to exit the airport and explore the city a little, the two weary travellers finally landed in Melbourne.

"Where to?" asked Cedric, as they walked out the terminal.

"I've booked us into a budget hotel," replied Hermione. "It's not fancy but it's used by backpackers so we'll be unremarkable there and I'd feel safer than in the wizarding district. I've booked us a twin room, if that's all right with you? I thought it would be better if we were together."

"No problem, but don't you want to go and find your parents?"

"First we need to shower and sleep. We can't turn up on their doorstep looking like ragamuffins or they won't let us in the door, and I need to be alert to reverse the memory charm or I could end up causing permanent brain damage. I'm only going to have one chance to do this because they'll be suspicious of strangers who approach them repeatedly, so I have to do everything right the first time."

With that, the friends boarded a bus which took them close to the hotel in the city centre. They made their way to the hotel and checked in, glad to be able to clean up and rest.

The following morning, Hermione and Cedric sat on her bed with the local telephone directory in front of them, scouring the pages for listings in the name of Wilkins W, Wilkins M, and Wilkins with no initial. Fortunately there were not very many such listings, so she prepared to start making calls. When placing the memory charm on her parents, Hermione had implanted the idea that they were planning to emigrate to Australia in their minds. She had specifically influenced them in the direction of Melbourne, as the small family had been there on holiday the year before Hermione started Hogwarts and they had all loved the city. In fact, Hermione's parents had even briefly considered moving to Melbourne then but had decided against it once they had agreed that Hermione should attend Hogwarts. Hermione hoped that her parents had in fact settled in Melbourne because she did not know how she could possibly search the entire country for them otherwise.

Trembling from nerves and tension, Hermione gradually worked her way through the listings, knowing that at some numbers there would be no answer since the household residents would be out and about on their daily business and that she would therefore probably not find her parents during her first round of phone calls. As the list of numbers she would need to call back grew, Hermione could not help losing hope, just a little.

Having all but given up hope of finding her parents that day, Hermione was stunned when about two-thirds of the way through her list of possibilities, her call was picked up by an answerphone and she heard a message in a very familiar voice. Her face lit up as she listened to her father reciting that no one was available to answer right now and would the caller please leave a message. Hermione held the receiver tightly in her hand as she listened avidly to the simple words, crying with relief at having found her parents. As she shakily returned the receiver to its cradle, Cedric lifted his diminutive friend onto his lap and held her in his arms while she sobbed. She nestled in closely as he stroked her hair and made reassuring shushing sounds.

"All right?" Cedric asked when Hermione finally quietened. She nodded, taking strength from the comforting feeling of being gently rocked in strong arms. Lifting her tear-stained face towards him, she nodded. "I found them," she said.

"That's wonderful, Hermione," he said, hugging her tightly. "So, shall we go and see them now?"

"No, they're out at work. We can go this evening when they're home."

"Right. Well in that case, we're going out for the rest of the day. Go wash your face and get whatever you need. We'll get something to eat and do some sightseeing. Go on, go and ready." Cedric stood up, tipping Hermione off his knee. Finding herself suddenly sprawling on the floor, Hermione scowled up at her friend, who just laughed in response, completed unfazed by the surly look on her face. He reached down to pull her up, putting his arm around her waist to steady her when she stumbled against him. Smiling down at her, he tucked a stray curl behind her ear. "I'm glad you found your parents, Kitten," he whispered, cupping her cheek tenderly and gently thumbing away the remnants of her tears from her face.

Brown eyes met grey. "K... Kitten?" she asked hesitantly.

"Kitten," he replied firmly. "You definitely have the personality of a cat, my little Gryffindor lioness. Fiery, strong and independent but fiercely protective of those you care about. You show your claws when you're angry but you purr you're when stroked. Yet although your personality may be ten feet tall – just like that ugly orange furball you used to own! – you, my feisty little witchling, are in fact tiny. So Kitten, not cat."

Hermione beamed at Cedric. "I like that," she whispered.

"Good." He kissed the tip of her nose as she looked up at him. "Now go and get ready."

Ten minutes later, the laughing teens headed out to explore Melbourne. After an enjoyable day whereby Hermione had made a conscious effort to focus only on the fun she and Cedric were having, they finally stopped off at a café to rest after their day of sightseeing.

"So what's the plan?" Cedric asked reluctantly. He had enjoyed seeing a light-hearted Hermione without her worries weighing her down and regretted bringing the serious and anxious look that she had worn for so long back to her face. It had been a very long time since the little witch had been truly carefree but, hopefully, when they restored her parents' memories, she would be able to relax and would remember how to be happy again.

"Well, we'll have to use subterfuge to enter the house. Once we're in, I have a video to show them if they're willing to watch it. After they've seen it, I hope they'll agree to let me restore their memories. If not, we may have to use the body bind curse and do the restoration without their cooperation. The former would be less distressing for them so I hope they'll agree but, frankly, I don't think it's likely."

"Okay, first of all, what's a video? And, secondly, do you have an idea how you'll trick your way inside?"

"A video is kind of like a muggle version of a pensieve memory. The video is a message from themselves to themselves, just before I modified their memories. Hopefully, they'll believe and trust it."

"So how do we get in and get them to watch it?"

"I was thinking of saying that I'm the niece of one of their secretaries and that when she heard I was coming to Australia, everyone at their dental practice made this video for them, which they asked me to deliver. Mum and Dad may not want to watch it while we're there, though. We could leave the phone number of the hotel so they can contact us once they've seen it but they might call the police – that's the muggle Aurors – if they think it's some kind of hoax."

"So regardless of whether or not they watch this video thingy, we may need to use some force?"

Hermione bit her lip and nodded sombrely.

"Kitten, I know you don't want to hear this but perhaps we should just do that from the start? We can still use that excuse to get us in the house but prolonging the process will just be more painful for everyone. What's that muggle phrase you keep using – ripping something?"

"Ripping off a plaster. It's a muggle cover for cuts and sores, because muggles can't heal things like that instantly. It protects the cuts and sores and keeps them clean while they heal naturally, so they don't become infected. The plasters have an adhesive, a sticky substance, on them to keep them in place but because they're stuck down it can sting quite a bit when they're taken off. So it's better to rip it off quickly and get it over with than to try and peel it off slowly because that just draws out the pain and makes it worse. You may have a point," she mused. "We probably should bluff our way in and then once we're inside, do what we need to do. I just don't want to scare them, that's all." Hermione looked at Cedric, her eyes brimming with tears.

"Don't worry, Kitten. We might scare them a little but we won't hurt them, and they agreed that you should modify their memories, didn't they? So once we restore them, they won't be angry with you. They'll be so happy to see you again, Hermione," he reassured her, scooting his chair closer to hers and wrapping his arms tightly around her.

Hermione laid her head on Cedric's shoulder, taking strength from his embrace. After a few minutes, she reluctantly sat up and called over their waitress to ask for their bill. Once they had paid, Cedric took Hermione's hand and led her out the café, where they made their way to a payphone. Hermione dialled her parents' number, anxiously listening to the phone ring as she waited for one of her parents to answer.

"Hello?" It was Hermione's mother.

"Is this Monica Wilkins?" she asked tremulously.

"Yes, it is. Who's speaking, please?"

"My name is Hermione. My aunt, Ruth, was one of your secretaries in Britain. When she heard I was coming on holiday to Melbourne, everyone at the practice prepared a video message for you. I'm sorry for the short notice but I was wondering if it would be convenient for me to come round this evening to deliver it?"

"Of course I remember Ruth. We'd be delighted if you came round this evening, Hermione. Do you know how to get here?"

Hermione quickly wrote down the directions and hung up, taking great, gasping breaths of air. "That was my Mum, Cedric. I spoke to my Mum!"

Cedric took Hermione in his arms and held her while tears silently slid down her face. "You must be fed up of me crying on you," she sniffled into his shoulder. Cedric gently guided her chin upwards with his finger until she was looking at him. "Never," he said as he leaned down and kissed her lips tenderly.

"C... C... Cedric?" Hermione stuttered.

"Yes, Kitten?" he smiled at her serenely.

"You… you k... kissed me?"

"Yes, I did, Kitten, and I'm going to do it again," he whispered in her ear before kissing her once more. "Come on, let's go and find your parents. We're attracting attention here."

Hermione glanced round and blushed as she saw passers-by looking at them with smiles on their faces as they walked past the young couple. Cedric took her hand in his and towed her along with him. That brought Hermione out of her daze and she quickly caught up with the handsome young man.

Too impatient to wait for a bus, Hermione flagged down a taxi and gave the driver the address. As they drove off, Hermione peeked at her companion, who was looking out the window at the bustling city. "Cedric?" she said, getting his attention. Seeing him look at her inquiringly, Hermione slid one hand around his neck and tugged lightly. He willingly brought his head down and she kissed him sweetly on the lips. _ "Merlin, that was good,"_ Hermione thought to herself as she smiled warmly at Cedric. Her face lit up when he smiled fondly back at her.

"I'm beginning to care very much for you, Cedric," she said quietly. "I don't know what I'd have done without you the last few days. I originally planned to make this trip alone and I simply can't imagine now how I would have coped on my own. You make me feel very happy and very safe and I don't want to be without you."

"Good," he said earnestly, "because I have no intention of letting you go." They spent the rest of the short journey gazing blissfully into each other's eyes.

They soon arrived at Hermione's parents' home and as the taxi drove off, Hermione stood gazing apprehensively at the house. Cedric put his arm around her shoulders reassuringly. "It'll be all right, Kitten. Come on, let's go in."

Squaring her shoulders, Hermione led the way up the path. She rang the doorbell and a moment later, heard footsteps coming towards the door. When it opened and she saw her mother standing there, Hermione could not contain the smile that spread across her face.


	3. Chapter 3

After the war, Hermione finds that she has drifted apart from Harry and Ron, as their lives head in different directions. As new opportunities come to her and she makes new friends, will the Golden Trio ever reconnect? Cedric lives. HG/CD.

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**Disclaimer:** Not mine, don't own it – I wish! Unfortunately, Harry Potter belongs to JKR and not to me; I'm just playing in her sandbox.

**Author's Notes:**

» Thank you to my beta, the wonderful StrongHermione, for all her help and support.

» This story is complete and in the process of being betaed; I'm hoping to update approximately every two weeks or so.

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**Chapter 3**

"Hello, you must be Hermione," the brown-haired woman said.

"Yes, that's right, Dr Wilkins, and this is my boyfriend, Cedric. I hope you don't mind my bringing him along."

"Of course not. You're both very welcome. Please come in."

Hermione and Cedric stepped into the house and Hermione slipped off her shoulder the capacious bag with the otter design¹ that had been her last gift from her parents before she had modified their memories and sent them off to Australia. She had kept it in storage for the past year, along with everything else she wanted to keep safe while on the run and, wanting the comfort of the sentimental value it held for her, she had made a special trip to the storage locker to retrieve it before coming to Australia with Cedric. Despite the trouble and turmoil the wizarding world was undergoing – or perhaps because of it – her parents had wanted to give her something that was not only useful but which would also remind her of the wonder and the good things she had experienced since entering the world of magic, and so she had chosen this bag that reminded her of her patronus and it never failed to make her smile whenever she looked at it.

"The video is in here," she said, "but we've been out sightseeing all day, so it's probably buried itself at the bottom of the bag by now."

"That's quite all right," her mother laughed. "Come on in and make yourselves comfortable while you dig it out." She showed them through to a spacious living room, which comfortably held a couple of couches, armchairs, some small tables and plenty of bookshelves packed tightly with books. "This is my husband, Wendell," she said as a curly-haired man put down the newspaper he was reading and stood to up greet his guests.

"Pleased to meet you, Sir." Cedric moved over to Hermione's father to shake his hand. Glancing at Hermione, he saw that she was beside her mother, wand in hand. With a nod to Hermione, he slipped his own wand out of his pocket and the pair of them quickly stunned her parents and gently lowered them to lie side-by-side on the floor. Hermione then cast the series of spells that would cancel the memory charms she had placed upon her parents. To make it harder for her parents' memories to be accessed by anyone other than herself, she had deliberately layered a sequence of spells upon her parents and the relevant counter-charms had to be cast in a precise order. She finished off by charming her parents into sleep, to give their minds a chance to process the changes she had made to their memories, and gently levitated them onto the couches.

"Now we wait," she sighed.

"How long will they sleep?" asked Cedric.

"For about an hour," she replied, chewing her lip nervously. "I hope that in the meantime we don't get visited by Aurors, wondering about magic taking place in a muggle residence."

"Unlikely. I imagine that they would probably already be here by now if they were going to come and check up on us."

Hermione nodded absently, not taking her eyes off her parents. Deciding that a cup of tea would help calm down his anxious girlfriend, Cedric went looking for the kitchen. "Erm, Hermione?" he called. "How do I make a cup of tea muggle-style?"

Hermione followed Cedric into the kitchen and saw him looking in bewilderment at the various gadgets and appliances. Giggling at his confusion, she filled and plugged in the kettle and then searched the kitchen for mugs, spoons and teabags. "What kind of tea would you like?" she asked**, i**ndicating several boxes stacked on a shelf.

"Mint, please," Cedric decided after perusing the selection.

"Mmm, that sounds good but I'd probably be better off with chamomile right now," she observed, taking out one mint and one chamomile teabag and putting them into mugs.

Cedric walked over to Hermione and took her in his arms. "You're doing fine," he reassured her.

Hermione gladly stood in the comfort of his embrace until the kettle clicked off. Quickly adding the boiling water to their mugs, she headed back to the living room to keep an eye on her parents. Unable to relax, she sat anxiously fidgeting until Cedric put his mug down and moved over to her armchair. Bending down, he lifted her up out of the chair and sat down in it himself, placing Hermione on his lap. He cradled her in his arms and she clung to him gratefully. "Tell me about them," he requested, thinking that talking about her parents would help her. "What was it like growing up as a muggle?" They chatted desultorily until Hermione's parents began to stir. Hermione leaped off Cedric's lap, dashed over to them and helped them sit up. "Mum? Dad? Do you remember me?" she sobbed imploringly.

"Hermione? Oh, Hermione!" At that, Hermione threw herself crying into her mother's welcoming arms.

"I've missed you both so much, Mummy," she wailed. "I was so worried about you."

At that, Hermione's father shakily made his way over to his weeping wife and daughter and held them both tightly. "Oh, my precious girl. You're safe now? It's all over?"

"Yes, Sir. It's all over, bar the tidying up," Cedric replied, as Hermione was incoherent by this time. "The war is finished and the right side won. The Ministry and the Department of Magical Law Enforcement are in the process of tracking down the remaining Death Eaters who haven't yet been taken into custody. They're in hiding at the moment but they're not in a position to stir up trouble again. They're probably just focused on survival and staying free. The ones who are already in custody have been dosed with Veritaserum – that's a truth serum – and they're all singing like birds, so I'm sure the rest will all be rounded up soon."

John Granger looked up mutely at the young man standing before him and Cedric introduced himsef to the shaken older man.

"Cedric Diggory, Sir. I'm a friend of Hermione's. I apologise for intruding but she's had a hard time of it this past year and her friends and I didn't want her to be on her own while she looked for you, so I came with her."

"Thank you. I appreciate that," John croaked hoarsely.

Cedric backed off and let the Granger family reunite. They sat for a long time without talking, just clinging desperately to each other. Eventually Cedric cleared his throat. "I'm sorry to interrupt but I'm just going to apparate back to the hotel and get Hermione's things. I'll be back soon, then I'll leave you three alone to catch up."

"No," Hermione extricated herself from her parents' arms. "Why don't you go back to the hotel, pack up _both_ our things and check us _both_ out? Mum, Dad, can Cedric stay here with us? He came all the way to Australia just to give me moral support. We're not going to abandon him in a hotel, are we?"

"Of course not, sweetheart. You're very welcome to stay with us, Cedric."

Cedric nodded and then walked out the back to disapparate to the hotel. He arrived in their hotel room and quickly packed up all their belongings with a few flicks of his wand. He checked them out and then apparated back to Hermione's parents' home.

By the time he returned, the three Grangers had managed to pull themselves together somewhat. Although still slightly teary and shaky, they were all bustling around the kitchen preparing supper together. Being completely lost with regard to the devices and gadgets being used in the muggle kitchen, Cedric sat and watched, fascinated, as Hermione and her parents worked together like a well-rehearsed ballet in this, to him, alien environment. It was not long before a simple meal had been prepared and everyone was sitting round the table eating.

"I'm sorry. We've been terribly rude," Hermione's mother addressed Cedric. "Allow me to introduce ourselves. My name is Helen Granger and this is my husband, John. Here in Australia, we've been using the aliases Monica and Wendell Wilkins but when it's just us, here in private, please call us Helen and John, rather than Monica and Wendell. I believe Hermione said your name was Cedric?"

"Yes, that's right. Cedric Diggory, Ma'am. I was a few years ahead of Hermione in Hogwarts but we became friends at the end of her fourth year."

"Helen, please."

Cedric nodded in acquiescence.

John frowned for a moment. "Why does your name sound familiar, Cedric?"

"Cedric wrote those articles in _The Quibbler_ that I showed you, Dad. The ones that persuaded you and Mum to go into hiding."

"Of course. I was very impressed with those articles, Cedric. Your analysis of the British wizarding community and how it needs to change was very insightful."

"Thank you, Sir. I grew up in the magical world and I love it, but its attitudes and the way it functions need to change drastically or else it's going to self-destruct. It's already on the verge of falling apart and without radical reform it won't survive the aftermath of the recent civil war."

"Are you a professional journalist, Cedric? And it's John."

"Oh, no, John. I had originally planned to follow my father into the Ministry of Magic but I've become rather disillusioned with the Ministry over the past few years. In fact, I've been unemployable since leaving Hogwarts due to my taking a stance against the government's at first passive and then supportive attitude towards the Dark side. The owner and editor of _The_ _Quibbler_ was willing to speak out against the recent regime and allowed me to write for his publication, however, they are a small paper and don't really need me full-time, even if I wanted to be a journalist. I'm not sure what I want to do now but I thought that perhaps I could take a bit of a holiday while I'm here and do some touring. It'll help me clear my head so that I can better consider my options. I'd also like to spend some time in the Australian magical community. They're not as hidebound, intolerant and antiquated as the British magical community and I may get inspiration from them, as I'm sure there are options available here that don't exist in Britain."

"That's a good idea," Hermione piped up, looking interested. "I desperately need a break from the British magical community and I thought this would be a good chance to reacquaint myself with my non-magical roots. The problem is that I don't have any muggle qualifications and with my muggle education having stopped at age 11, that limits my options in that world. Heck, I don't even have magical qualifications as I didn't get to sit my NEWTs because of the war. But if the Australian magical community is more liberal, then like Cedric, there may be options for me here. At the very least, perhaps I can sit my NEWTs or whatever the local equivalent is. That is, unless you're anxious to go straight back to Britain, Mum and Dad? If you go back, then I'm going with you. I know it's mostly been my doing but we've spent too much time apart since I started Hogwarts and I'm not yet ready to be apart from you again."

"No, sweetheart," replied Helen. "Whatever happens we won't be going back immediately. We'd have to sell up here first. Besides, your father and I have enjoyed living here, so if you find the Australian magical community to be more open and more to your taste, then I think we'd be happy to stay on, wouldn't we John? And doing some touring sounds like a wonderful idea, if you and Cedric don't mind us joining you?"

"I'd love that, Mum. Cedric? Will it be all right with you?"

"Of course it will, Kitten."

Helen raised an eyebrow upon hearing the pet name. She liked the little she had seen so far of this young man who was so supportive towards her daughter and she hoped that her husband felt the same way. _"I guess John and I will have to talk about it later but this relationship has my vote._ _I think he could be good for Hermione,"_ she mused.

"Cedric?" asked Hermione. "Do you think we should contact Kingsley Shacklebolt or Professor McGonagall for introductions to the magical community here? I'm sure that as Acting Minister, Kingsley can probably smooth the way for us a bit, and Professor McGonagall ought to be able to advise me about how I can officially complete my schooling."

Remembering the briefing he had received prior to leaving Britain from Kingsley and Bill Weasley regarding the demands that so many people, Minerva McGonagall included, seemed to be making on the young witch, Cedric resolved to leave Professor McGonagall out of the equation as much as possible. "The problem is that international magical travel has been restricted and the Australian Ministry won't be pleased to know we sneaked in by muggle means. I think we should do our touring first, Hermione, and in a few weeks' time the situation will hopefully have stabilised enough that we can officially admit to being here. We'll get in touch with Kingsley when we're ready to contact the Australian magical community and he'll vouch that we're not Death Eaters on the run. Once that's been settled, then we can decide what to do next. I think that making any sort of plans regarding your education can wait until we know if we're welcome to stay in Australia or if we're going to be sent straight back to Britain again when they find out we came here despite the restrictions on magical travel. If we're permitted to stay, then Bill probably has contacts through Gringotts who can help us further."

"I don't know," said Hermione glumly. "I'm not exactly the goblins' favourite person right now."

"No, you're really not," laughed Cedric. "But I understand that Bill is taking care of that. I gather that the goblins are grateful you removed that abomination from their premises but they're less happy about the rather spectacular way in which you three escaped from the bank. He says that if he can come up with an argument that will allow the goblins to save face, then they'll probably overlook the means by which you did it."

"And just what does he think the chances are that he'll manage to come up with an argument persuasive enough that the goblins will agree to relinquish any claims over the fact that Harry, Ron and I robbed the bank?

"You robbed a bank?" thundered John, shock and horror both showing on his face.

"Yes, but not for money. We took one artefact that had been stored there and if we hadn't taken it, we'd have lost the war. It had been imbued with very, very dark magic, which was keeping Voldemort, the leader of the Dark side, alive artificially. That needed to be destroyed so that he could be defeated."

"Hermione's right, John, and the goblins know it. The goblins just need to agree terms with Harry, Hermione and Ron to settle the issue. However, as the three of them would never have succeeded in robbing the bank without the help of one of Gringotts' own, the goblins aren't exactly negotiating from a position of unassailable strength. They're being intransigent partly because that's what goblins do – they really don't like witches and wizards – and partly because they're embarrassed, since the entire wizarding community is aware of what happened. They had a reputation of being impregnable and now that reputation has been destroyed. That's mostly Hermione's doing, I'm afraid."

"Let me get this straight: you robbed a bank and then announced to the world that you'd done so? I'm surprised you're not in gaol."

"We didn't exactly announce it," Hermione mumbled abashedly.

Cedric snorted. "No, they just escaped from the bank on the back of a dragon that they liberated from the goblins, destroying half the bank in the process. It was Hermione's idea, I understand. Your daughter has style!"

"You robbed a bank and escaped on the back of a dragon that you also stole?" exclaimed John, with a look of reluctant admiration.

"The conditions that dragon was living in were appalling!" snapped Hermione. "We did a good thing by freeing it."

"Wh… what?" stuttered Helen, stunned by these revelations.

Hermione sighed. "I need to tell you about everything that happened after I modified your memories but it's probably better if I tell the story in chronological order or I might miss something important. You'll have to wait until near the end of the story to hear about your daughter becoming a bank robber, Dad" she teased.

"And that won't be tonight," Helen interjected. "It's getting late and we're all exhausted. Judging by how gaunt you are, Hermione, you need a good night's sleep and plenty of hearty meals. It's the weekend tomorrow; you'll be able to take as long as you need to tell your story. Come along, Hermione and Cedric. Let me show you to your rooms."

With that, Helen shepherded the two youngsters off to bed and returned downstairs to clear up. "Thank God Hermione survived," she said to her husband, "but she looks dreadful. We should probably arrange a doctor's appointment for her to have a checkup."

"I think you should hold off on that," he replied. "Let's wait until we know what happened to her. She may just need rest and some good meals."

"John…"

"I know, but how do we explain how she got into that state?"

Helen sighed. "Do you ever wish we'd turned Professor McGonagall away the day she arrived on our doorstep to tell us that our daughter was a witch?"

"Oh, all the time," he laughed, taking his wife in his arms. "But if we had, we'd probably all be dead now. It wouldn't have saved us from that maniac and his followers and we wouldn't have even known why we were being killed. We wouldn't have stood a chance against them."

"I know," she whispered, laying her head on her husband's chest.

"It's all right now, Helen," he tried to reassure her. "Hermione survived, we survived and we have our family back together again. I don't know about you, but I'm quite happy to stay here in Australia, far away from the British magical community. Even if it is with the name Wendell!"

At that, Helen laughed. "Let's find out what happened in Britain while we've been here. After that, we can make plans for the future, whether they be here or there. There's no rush to sort out our names; that's a minor detail, all things considered."

John nodded in agreement as they headed off to bed. As they passed the door to Hermione's room, Helen gently reached out and pushed it open. She stood in the doorway for a few minutes, just watching her precious daughter sleep. John came up behind her and circled his arms around her waist as she leaned back into him and tears slid silently down her face. "She's safe now, Helen," he whispered in her ear, "and she'll still be here in the morning." Helen nodded mutely and allowed her husband to lead her away to bed.

Once she was curled up in her husband's arms, Helen asked John, "What do you think of Cedric?"

"You noticed that too, hmm?" he asked wryly. "Hermione likes him, doesn't she?"

"Mmm hmm. He likes her, too. He seems like a fine, young man."

"He does. I realise we barely know him but I like him and I wouldn't mind at all if Hermione ended up with him."

"Me either," Helen agreed before closing her eyes and falling asleep.

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¹ Go to zazzle dot co dot uk and search for otter messenger bags. There's a number of gorgeous ones.


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